


Dreamscapes

by huggs5



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, marco is undecidedly dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huggs5/pseuds/huggs5





	Dreamscapes

"Marco?"

Jean drops heavily against a tree, 3DMG clattering against the bark. No. No, no, no, it can't be. Jean leans against the bark with both hands as his knees turn to rubber. Barbed wire pulls taught around his rib cage.

"Marco?!"

The other boy stands tall across the clearing, hooded cape pulled up over his face, obscuring his features. But Jean knows that face because he pulled it close and counted the freckles out loud until his throat was sore every night. He watched that face fall into grief and terror and unimaginable ecstasy. Jean could never forget that face as blood like mud caked pale skin. 

But he must have been mistaken. Or he's mistaken now. Oh God. 

Marco pulls the hood off his gaunt face but doesn't step any closer. His features are hardened, his eyebrows furrowed. The swish of his blades as they tuck neatly back inside the boxes sounds as loud as gunfire to Jean. 

"Marco please!" Jean cries. Grief feathers the edge of his voice. "Say something."

Marco walks forward with measured steps, like he's approaching a wounded animal, then, with careful precision, lowers himself to the earth in a bow. Jean steps back, surprised. 

"I'm sorry," Marco says quietly, voice hoarse. 

Jean slides down the tree and it takes all his strength not to grab Marco and pull him into his arms right there and then. He settles for taking his hand and not letting go. Jean has so many questions he wants to rattle off at a hundred miles and hour without waiting for an answer but he forces himself to say nothing. 

"There was nothing I could do, please J-" but he can't stand to listen to the brokenness of Marco's voice any longer. 

"Marco it's okay, it's okay," now he does pull him in to his lap, one hand wrapped around his thighs, the other on the side of his head. "You're back for good now, aren't you?"

_"Jean?"_

"Marco?"

_"Jean, wake up!"_

Armin stands over Jean, hands clutched tightly to his shoulders. The rest of the squad peers over Armin at him almost comically. In all these faces, none of them are Marco's. Jean breathes erratically, like he won't ever breathe again. Then without warning, he bursts into tears. Armin and Connie try desperately to hold him, to comfort him, but the weight of Marco in his arms felt so real. He can still see the hairs on his head move in the wind and he can still see the sunlight bouncing off the individual strands. 

Jean misses him the way you would miss an arm. He feels incomplete, alone, like theres a part of him obviously missing. But there's nothing he or anyone else can do about it. 

"I just want Marco back," he sobs.


End file.
